river, constitutes a part of the boundary line, which was thence to pass to the source of the St. Mary's, which then divides the two countries to the ocean. Our author's sea journal from the Chattahocha to the St. Mary's is generally tedious and uninteresting. On his passage he observed a very singular appearance in the heavens, which he thus describes :

About two o'clock in the morning, I was called up to see the shooting of the stars, as it was vulgarly termed. The phenomenon was grand and awful; the whole heavens appeared as if illuminated with sky rockets, flying in an infinity of directions, and I was in constant expectation of some of them falling on the vessel. They continued, till put out by the light of the sun, after day break. This phenomenon extended over a large portion of the West-India islands, and was observed as far north as St. Mary's, where it appeared as brilliant as with us. During this singular appearance, the wind shifted from the south to the

north, and the thermometer, which had been at 86° for four days past, fell to 56°.

Mr. E. does not attempt to account for this appearance, but only mentions the theoretick conjecture of Lavoisier, that the air consists of different strata, as more satisfactory to him than any other. In favour of that theory, which attributes the Gulf Stream to a rotary motion in the Atlantick ocean, aided by the trade winds, he advances some plausible arguments. Our author thinks neither West or East Florida of much consequence in themselves. The former, except on the Mississippi, is but very thinly populated, and the coast of the latter is entirely uninhabited, and in possession of the privateersmen of the Bahama islands, who plunder it of its timber. West Florida is of consequence from the passage through it of the rivers mentioned above, which con

nect a fine and extensive tract of country within the United States with the ocean. East Florida derives its importance from being calculated to give security to the trade, that the atlantick states carry on with the western, and with the Gulf of Mexico. The source of the St. Mary's was determined by the commissioners to be somewhere in the Okofonoke swamp; but as it was impossible to enter the swamp at that season, a mound was erected on the west side of the main outlet; and it was agreed, that a line should be run from that mound in a north-east direction two miles, at the termination of which, it should meet the line from Flint river. Thus end Mr. E.'s official labours. To this account he adds a short list of plants, in a note to which, he confutes, by the mention of the Notes on Virginia, the opinion, which, he says, Mons. Buffon, and other celebrated European writers, have held, that American genius was inferiour to that of the old world.

The prevailing disorders of the country are fevers, by which our author lost several of his people at Natchez. He preserved himself from them by Dr. Rush's pills, till, when they were exhausted, he himself likewise was attacked. His journal by sea back to Philadelphia concludes the work. The appendix contains the state of the weather and thermometer for each day, the astronomical observations, and the calculations from those observations, by a reference to which their accuracy may be determined. It contains likewise maps of the boundary line on a large scale.

The maps, which are all well executed, and bear internal marks of accuracy, must be considered as valuable additions to our geography; but the work is neither interesting, nor does it contain much important information. In our passage down the Ohio, there are but few objects to detain our attention, and, launched into the Mississippi, we might almost as well be at sea. The delays of the dependent Spanish government had before been made publick, and had therefore lost much of their interest; and the petty disputes of party faction could never claim more, than a local consideration. The knowledge of the coast of Florida, and of the rivers which discharge themselves into the gulf of Mexico, is balanced by the tedious difficulties, which are always met with in penetrating uninhabited deserts, and by the barrenness of a sea-voyage. The comments are few, and those the remarks of a common mind. The language is frequently inelegant, and sometimes incorrect. The passages, quoted above, we believe to be fair specimens of the style, which never rises above plain narration. Upon the whole, we must conclude, that the work is very much inferiour to what it ought to have been; and that a small pamphlet, with the maps, which we must again call valuable, would have contained as much information as the quarto, through which we have laboured.

Inquiry; and yet, if nothing but the quantity of brass be regarded, we are hardly losers by the exchange. Mr. Wortman's book has all the the properties of a cent, except its currency, and its value. It has as dull a countenance, and as drossy and cumbrous a nature. One can hardly be persuaded to read the first paragraph of a volume of 300 pages, when the preface contains an insolent boast, under the name of an apology, that the work is produced in a few idle hours, without care or attention. "It is but justice," says Mr.W. " to observe, that the following pages have only occupied the leisure moments of less than four months, and been written amidst the constant interruption of business." There was no necessity for this haste-no eager impatience of the publick drove Mr. W. to the press. It is effrontery to introduce to the world, under the imposing title of a "Political Inquiry," a volume, composed in a time almost too short for an amanuensis to copy its pages. The affectation of writing quick is contemptible; yet in this country it too frequently supplies the ambition of writing well. The calamus currens is for clerks and secretaries, not for those who would instruct or inform mankind. But, perhaps, it is well that Mr. W. published thus hastily, for if he had taken longer time, there is reason to fear, that, instead of writing better, he would have written

more.

It is difficult to say what Mr. W.'s book is, or to what class of productions it belongs. This would be,

"to give to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name."

Its most striking characteristick is the absence of ideas. The reader wades through it, meeting only at

:

great intervals with a sentiment, which deserves either censure or approbation. It is a vast Serbonian bog, where there is nothing to bear up his steps. Every thing sinks beneath him, nor can the eye glance far enough to behold an inch of solid ground, on which to rest its hopes. Declamation, with out genius or spirit, false reasoning, without ingenuity enough to be called sophistry, and an inveterate hostility to the rules of grammar and composition, are principal features in this performance. In the very first paragraph he valorously takes up arms against the " monarchick sway" of grammar. "We will [shall] neither be able to reflect with accuracy," &c.

In the same page he says, "Political institution should emphatically be considered as that science, which proposes for its object the promotion of general felicity."_ Words may be emphatically spoken, and perhaps, by a figure, emphatically written, but who ever heard of considering, or deliberating on a subject emphatically ? Yet, as Mr. W. has no emphasis in his book, perhaps we ought to indulge him in claiming it for his brain.

Farther on, he says, " civil society, as well as her sister sciences"! &c.

We open the book, by accident, at the 65th page, and from that, and those immediately following, will transcribe a few paragraphs, as specimens of Mr. W.'s style and sentiments. The first sentence which meets our eye is this. Speaking of poetry and metaphysicks, he observes, " such are the studies which elude the utmost profundity of intellect"! He pro"Not so with rational politicks. Every truth is luminous; every principle is clear, perspicuVol. III. No. 10. 3W

ous, and determinable; its doctrines are established in the common sentiments and feelings of mankind; its positions are maintained and enforced by universal experience."

Does not Mr. W. know that political science has, more than any other, divided the opinions of mankind, and that, after a discussion of many centuries, very few principles are yet settled ? What "position" of politicks is maintained by universal experience? Can he name one, that has been received by the one millionth part of the population of the world since the creation?

:

In page 67 are these shrewd remarks. "Man, therefore, is the only actor upon whatever theatre human conduct is destined to become exhibited. To whatever olject our imagination is extended, to the statesman in the cabinet, the philosopher in his closet, or the hero in the field; wherever we direct our contemplation, to battles and to sieges, negociations or hostility, treaties of peace, convention of commerce, or declaration of war; it is man that acts and suffers."

Wonderful counsellor! Have you then discovered that human beings alone can be the authors of human actions?

personal injury and oppression. Hence then it is an obvious position, that every intelligent being must necessarily possess a suficient standard of political discrimination. Can the obstinacy of scepticism demand still farther illustration?" No, no, illustrious Tunis, the " obstinacy of scepticism" is a weak, shivering victim beneath the scymeter of such logick. It doubts of nothing while you reason, although you should attempt to prove the muddiness of your own brain.

In page 171 are the following sentiments, which come fresh and strong' from the school of Godwin. "It has been rendered sufficiently plain, that a virtuous government cannot become materially injured by misrepresentation; for the most acrimonious and violent invectives will be the most open to detection. Why then should punishment be inflicted? Will the confinement of my body within a prison, or the removal of my property to the publick treasury, render me a better man? Will such severity be calculated to conciliate my affections towards the government? or will it be likely to inspire me with lasting resentment? If I have been guilty of malicious detraction, let corroding Envy, sickening Jealousy, and vulture passions torture and prey upon my heart. Believe me, I should be punished by misery more agravated, than the horrours of an inquisition."

This is genuine. The disciple has excelled the master. These sentiments are too good to die with a first reading. Let us view them in another shape. The doctrines, which Tunis so ingeniously applies to cases of malicious libel, must be equally applicable to other transgressions of the law. On mur

der, for instance, he would reason in the same way. "It has been rendered sufficiently plain, that society cannot be materially injured by the death of one individual: for the most barbarous and violent deeds will be the most open to detection. Why then should punishment be inflicted on a murderer ? Will the confinement of my body within a prison, will chains or the gallows render me a better man? Will such severity be calculated to conciliate my affections towards society? or will it be likely to inspire me with lasting resentment? If I have been guilty of wilful murder, let corroding Envy, sickening Jealousy, and vulture passions torture and prey upon my heart. Believe me, I should be punished by misery more aggravated, than all the horrours of hemp"!!!

Such are the torrents of nonsense, which a man, who calls himself a counsellor, is capable of pouring forth, as a subject closely connected with his professional studies.

Believe us, Mr. Counsellor, if these be your sentiments, the cap and bells would become you more than the long robe, and you would shew better in Bedlam, than the Forum.

ART. 56.

The Lay of the Last Minstrel, a poem, by Walter Scott, Esq.Hugh Maxwell, Philadelphia.

12mo. 1805.

THIS work is neatly and accurately re-printed, and is a good specimen of the rapid progress, which this country is making towards typographical excellence.

European Reviewers have so justly displayed the beauties, and

appreciated the merits of this interesting composition, that we have little, if any thing, to add to their remarks; but we cordially join them in praising a poem, which has afforded us exquisite pleasure, and which " has raised its author to a permanent rank among the classical poets of his country."

In towns, where trade occupies every thought, at all times and seasons, and in every company monopolizes the greatest share of conversation; where its maxims and spirit pervade every class of society, and would confine all mental exertion within its own contracted sphere; it must be peculiarly gratifying to the few, whose faculties are not shackled and benumbed, to read of other times, of other manners, of other men; with different objects in view, with more ardent, as well as nobler passions; and whose vices, while they neither exceeded in number or enormity those of later times, were balanced by many virtues; among which unbounded generosity, steady friendship, faithful love, and heroick valour, shone conspicuous. It is therefore with great satisfaction, that we strongly recommend, to the rising generation particularly, this vivid effort of genius and learning; but as it is probable more attention will be paid to samples, than to mere recommendation, we shall select a few specimens, and vouch for the goodness of the whole.

The introduction is poetical and interesting in the highest degree. An aged Minstrel, wandering near the Castle of Branksome, was admitted by the Dutchess of Buccleugh, and, after being hospitably treated, to gratify her and her ladies, he sings to his harp a tale of arms and chivalry, in which the

names and actions of her ancestors are commemorated.

Amid the strings his fingers strayed, And an uncertain warbling madeAnd oft he shook his hoary head. But when he caught the measure wild, The old man raised his face, and smiled, And lightened up his faded eye, With all a poet's ecstacy! In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along; The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot; Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost. Each blank, in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied; And, while his harp responsive rung, 'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung. P. 12.

Those, who have any relish for the beautiful and sublime, will be charmed with his description of Melrose abbey.

If thou wouldst view fair Melrose